The Prince that was Promised
by QueenofBloodandTears
Summary: Elizabeth of York dies and Henry VII is left without a Queen. Instead of succumbing to sadness, Henry thinks about the succession and the security of his kingdom; taking his son's bride he secures both but what does this mean for England and his sons?
1. Chapter 1

**From Kittenallie's plot bunny.**

* * *

_"No light, no light in your bright blue eyes  
I never knew a daylight could be so violent  
A revelation in the light of day,  
You can't chose what stays and what fades away  
and I'd do anything to make you stay." ~No light by Florence and the Machine.  
_

Elizabeth of York was struggling through the pains of childbirth. This would be her sixth child, the others had died except for four, if this didn't die she would be Henry's beloved Queen again. A Queen's duty her mother always said was to prove herself first and foremost to her husband and her God and since her husband was God there was no distinction between the two.

Elizabeth was asked to push harder again. She tried and pushed with all her might. She had been writing another letter to the Queen Isabella of Castile, they had been corresponding together since it was decided her daughter and her son would marry. Henry had been there for the proxy ceremony between the Spanish ambassador representing his bride and their son. It was a splendid ceremony. Just imagine –she thought- what the real one would be.

She had prayed afterwards in her closet. Her father had invented these small private places, not a very devote man himself but her grandmother had been and she always needed her own rooms to pray. After Elizabeth had finally been granted part of her grandmother's dowry, she had transformed Baynard Castle into her own private retreat. She had added a room to every chamber, and her personal toilette where she could brush herself and wash whenever she wanted.

Henry was not fond of English customs. Having grown up in exile for most of his life he had absorbed most of the foreign cultures and grown to like them more than England's.

"M'lady push!" The midwife screamed.

The doctors were outside, Doctor Carleon and her new physician,, his trainee, waiting to hear the news of what she would expect, boy or girl. It was tradition that men could not enter the bedchamber unless truly needed.

A stupid tradition –She thought.

Another pain stabbed her in her mid-section, this child was proving more difficult than her last one. Elizabeth. At the memory of her daughter a single tear fell down her cheek. Elizabeth …

She had been such a beautiful child. Beautiful like her late mother and her mother had been there to see her deliver her child like her older brother Arthur. Both were such sweet babies, not red headed or blue eyed like their younger siblings. They took after the Woodville side of her family. Henry had fallen in love with her, she had never seen him so happy, not even when she delivered Arthur.

He even named her after her and her mother and when she died, it was the most terrible thing they had ever endured. She thanked God that her mother wasn't alive or her grandmothers for that matter. Her grandmother Jacquetta would have been honored to see all her royal brood of grandchildren, especially those two, and her grandmother Cecily would have been delighted to see a child so pleasant and beautiful.

Her younger children, Margaret, Henry, and Mary took more after their Plantagenet ancestors, especially Henry whom her husband often remarked reminded him too much of the Yorkists he had tried so hard to wipe out. She told him that Harry would be different from her grandfather. He was only nine but he was already an athletic child, he would grow up to be a warrior someday and defend his eldest brother from his enemies just like the late Jasper Tudor had done for her husband.

Caught up in her memories, the child within her gave a violent kick. Feeling herself cut in half by the stubborn babe, she was brought back to the present and painfully screamed as she gave another push.

"I see the head!"

Elizabeth was told to ease her pushing. One of the midwives took the child by the abdomen and pulled him right off, gently but quickly so not to cause it harm.

"God bless! It's a boy!" She cried and gave it to the head mid-wife to clean off. She ran to the Queen's side to inform her. She had slumbered after the baby was pulled out from her.

The King was told she would recover. There was no internal damage that they could determine and no fever.

"How soon will she be up?" Henry asked. He wanted to share this triumph with her. His mother had not been well and he did not have anyone to rejoice with except Elizabeth.

Poor Elizabeth –He thought. After the loss of their child she had gone into a deep depression and started to lose weight very fast. It didn't help that she had seen him cry.

"Her Grace will be up very soon." Doctor Carleon.

"How soon is soon Carleon? I need a date, a time, not a maybe or mayhap."

Doctor Carleon gulped. He wished he would be back in hiding with the Lady Margaret and her late husband, the earl of Derby. It was much easier then to plot, to scheme for the lady Elizabeth and Henry Tudor to marry. Not to be as he is now, doctor to the Queen. It was much harder than he'd thought. Every time his wife was ill or in any predicament –sometimes of her own making since the Queen inherited the sweet tooth and plumpness of her father- it was his fault. Never mind that it was him who arranged that Lady Margaret and the Queen Dowager conspire together to put Henry Tudor in the throne of England.

Henry rolled his eyes. He moved past him, he was getting nowhere with this imbecile.

The King would never admit it but his love for the Queen was evident in the way he grew angry every time there was something, or he suspected there was, wrong with her.

He rushed through the doors and ordered the midwives out. He wanted to be alone with his wife. He wanted to be the first face she saw when she woke up.

* * *

"Can I see the baby?" Harry asked excitedly. His namesake said a very clear 'no' but Harry disobeyed his commands and as usual with that puppy-eyed-face of his got what he wanted.

"I want to see him first." His five year old sister Mary said.

"No sod off, I called her first."

"That's not fair, you always get to go first!" She told Meg.

Meg pushed her away and took the babe from Harry's arms. Arthur was nowhere to be seen. He had been recalled to London. Unknown to the children, their mother was dying and the only ones privy to these news were their father and older brother.

They were young royals so the King did not need to concern himself with destroying the last bits of childhood they had before the world came crushing down on them.

"He is too big."

"Almost as big as Harry!" Mary added causing both of them to laugh.

"Shut it. I was not big, it was you who is big."

"Was big you idiot. It's pronounced IS big. But what do you know Harry. You never attend your lessons."

"I do too!" Harry screamed, his cheeks turning a deep purple.

"Do not!"

"Do too!"

"Do not!"

"Do too!"

"Do not, slander and calumny if you dare say otherwise!" She said with a haughty tone giving a little jump and bearing her chin up in triumph.

Harry crossed his arms and grumbled.

"What did you say?"

"I said you are a fat twit!"

Margaret laughed.

"Laugh if you want is the truth."

"You can tell me whatever you wish little brother, it just goes to show how mature you are. Look the baby shares my opinion." Edmund had been woken by his sister's jump and his brother's shouting. At hearing Margaret's last voice of triumph he began laughing.

In his young subconscious, the girl holding him reminded him of his mother. Although they looked nothing alike, his brain was too small and underdeveloped to make the connection, he only knew that she had a pleasant voice and she was the only one he felt comfortable with.

Harry stomped his feet on the ground willing attention back to him. "Of course he does he is a baby and babies are ugly and stupid."

"That's not true." Mary said coming closer to Margaret and their brother. "I think he is very cute, He is the cutest baby I've ever seen."

"He is the only baby you've ever seen." Harry reminded her but she wasn't paying attention to him by now. None of the sisters were.

Harry left furiously and returned to his chambers, on his way there he heard sobbing, the kind of sobbing he had only heard in distant dreams and from the man he never thought he would hear.

"Dad?" Henry turned his head to his son.

"How did you get in here-" But his sentence was cut short by noting there were no guards outside. He had asked to be alone and un-disturbed. "Where are your sisters?" He asked wiping his tears and pulling a straight face again but Harry wasn't fooled.

"It's okay to cry dad, mom always says it's okay to cry once in a while. Grandmother Margaret says so too. Where is Arthur and mom? Aren't they joining us for dinner?"

"No Henry they aren't. Your mother you see son …" He paused. "Sit by me Harry, there is something I need to tell you." He patted the cushion seat next to him.

Harry looked at his father, uncertain if he should heed his old man's orders. He knew his father at his best and at his worst. People said they never cried but some said he did cry. When his sister Elizabeth had died, they said he cried hardest than the Queen. He didn't believe it. His mother was the most sentimental being he knew and his father … well, his father wasn't sentimental at all, he doubted he was even capable of feeling anything for anyone but himself.

'Please' Henry said in a small gesture from his hand that still didn't convince Harry.

He sat however on the seat he designated for him and surprised by what happened next, he felt his father's arms around him and he began stroking his back.

"Harry I am so sorry but something has happened and I want you to know that it is none of our fault, the Lord works in mysterious ways and sometimes He does things that hurts us all but they are for the good of the realm, they must be otherwise He wouldn't be doing them and one of these hurtful things is taking the people we love."

"You mean Elizabeth."

"Yes I mean her, but not just her. Harry your mother and I … your mother and I previous to the incidemt-"

"What previous incident?" Harry asked at once then pressed both lips together realizing his mistake.

His father looked at him with one hard and stern look then continued. "We decided to make you Edmund's godfather."

"I will be Edmund's godfather!" Harry jumped from his seat and jumped a second time in joy. Yipee! Oh wait until Margaret hears this and Arthur –

Oh boy will he be jealous!

Then something caught Harry's attention, something his father said.

"Wait, what incident?"

"That is what I was getting at. Sit down Harry."

"Harry," Henry made a small pause fixating his hard dark blue eyes on his son's lighter ones. He was so much like his grandfather, his great enemy, his Elizabeth's father, the same man who tried to lure him for many years with false promises of marrying Elizabeth to England and then starve him to death or worse, suffocate him in his sleep as he likely did to his uncle, the last Lancastrian King or his brother did to the two York Princes while they slept.

Looking into those two eyes again he could not help but feel contempt. Why was it God took the one woman he loved and devoted himself to and left this boy? He never knew what secrets Elizabeth harbored, if the rumors were true about her and Richard. He heard from his servants that this was God's vengeance on her for frolicking with the Usurper. Ignorant fools, they did not know what they were talking about. But just how wrong were they? How could be sure that she'd come to him a true maid ? He himself had not been true to her. He had his score of women, not much mind you, but a fair lot when he was in exile. Many of them introduced by his Uncle who said it was time for him to know a woman.

(In his defense, he was just a penniless Earl with only a title and no land or fortune of thirteen and he would likely never marry or know comfort and his mother who promised to fight arduously to restore his titles; would never triumph. He had no one but himself and his uncle to keep him company. So on a sunny Sunday morning after they attended the church service, his Uncle with the few coins they had received from their host, the Duke of Brittany, took him to a brothel. There were no words just one small room and a feather bed with a naked red head on top. "Name is Brigit" She said and crooked her finger leading him on. When he was too scared she stood up and her hair fell like ringlets of fire, cascading down her breast and past her shoulders to her knees. She was the fairest creature he had seen –and ever would see at the time. He jumped into her bed and took her. No words, no emotion, he just took her and she pleased him from there on for three years and three months, he kept the exact count until she said she was growing too old and he would do better with younger maids like him. He had never forgotten about his first, after he became King he made inquiries as to where she was, if she had a son or a daughter, if per-chance that son or daughter might be his but the inquiries never got him anywhere. She was likely dead or married high just as she said her ambitions were.)

When he met Elizabeth he compared her to the women he had. But after their first night he had forgotten all of them except Brigit. But it didn't matter anymore because Elizabeth was his wife and Brigit was old news. He was going to dedicate his life to Elizabeth and that was that –but, on that back of his mind he always wondered was she true or did she have her share of dirty little secrets with her uncle as he had his?

It is best not to dwell on the past Henry. Margaret Beaufort always told his son and Henry heeded her advice this time.

He cleared his throat, steeled himself, hardened his grip on the young boy, the young Edward IV look-alike and spoke the fatal words, unaware that in many years from now by the way he said them, they would have disastrous consequences on the boy's character.

"Your mother is dead."

* * *

The palace was in mourning. The King, deep in mourning, closeted himself from the rest of the world. For the first time since he married Elizabeth, all his family was together. Arthur was chief mourner, a task not easy on a boy so young but he told himself if he was going to be King someday he had to do his duty as best befit a Crown Prince. And not just any Crown Prince, a Crown Prince of England as his mother always said. He could hear her voice in all of his Woodville aunts and relatives after the service when they came for a solemn dinner in the great hall of Hampton Court.

He could hear her in Margaret even, although she was more Plantagenet in looks, she had that strong and fierce temperament that distinguished all the Woodville women from their great ancestress the formidable Jacquetta Rivers, daughter of the Count of St. Pol and of course his grandmother, the other formidable and late Queen Dowager, Elizabeth Woodville.

He did not cry during the service. Unlike his siblings he would not give into his emotions, even baby Edmund was too weak to hold his breath and restrain his tears when he saw the solemn faces gaping down at him as they whispered in his ear what a poor child he would be growing without their loving mother.

Weaklings, attention-seekers, all of them. They did not know what it meant to be a King. His late grandmother told him a King does not beg, a King allows himself emotion, to be passionate when he needs to, for his family, otherwise he shows nothing and says nothing. Elizabeth Woodville had been cold, she said, when she was Queen and to show herself stronger than her enemies she showed how ruthless she could also be. He never told his father this but there was a curse place don his family; Elizabeth suspected (wrongly) that the Tudors had killed the Princes and that was why she and her daughters came out of sanctuary. She mistakenly believed Richard's lies and cursed that every firstborn Tudor would die. However there was a way to prevent this and she, along with his mother, taught him all the spells they themselves had been taught by Jacquetta Woodville.  
("We descend from Melusina. Be proud. Our blood is more godly and the Tudors are Lnacastrians, you represent the union of both houses. Never be ashamed of it.")  
She did not need to say more. The meaning was clear -Be brave and do what is necessary.

He promised her he would be a good King, not a King like his grandfather Edward IV had been, but the type of King his uncle, the lost Prince in the tower, Edward V, would have been. Satisfied with his answer, his grandmother had initiated him into the dark arts.  
("Magic" she said "is just another way to make your wishes come true.")

Separated by the rest of the people, the royal family sat in one long horizontal table covered with white linen and with the finest courses and dishes that everyone had laid their eyes upon. Arthur was at the center, looking down at the rest of his future subjects. From here they looked like ants but he didn't let illusions of grandeur cloud his vision. He was a Prince of Wales and he had small experience governing Wales in his father's name and administering his own court; as a representative of the King, he had a great role to play by showing everyone what a good sovereign he could by showing himself in control and eating moderately and taking turns to talk and look at all of his siblings equally.

Henry looked behind two holes in the wall he had lifted from one of the statues, at his son and his court. He was being calm and keeping things in control just like he had expected him to. A true King. Aye –he said to himself.

A true King in the making. And what better than to get him a wife so he can have children and they can have children and their children can have children and so on and so on and the great Tudor name continues for centuries onward.

He laughed madly. Tudor name! What was so great about being a Tudor? Everything they loved was snatched by them. They couldn't keep a crown this long enough without raising taxes or taking down a peasants revolt. What good was a dynasty that shed blood of its own kin?

"What good is any dynasty?" He barked tearing his eyes from the statue. He threw his cup across the room. No one heard the commotion from his chambers since they were all pretending to have a good time at the feast.

Feast this. Feast that. The King yelled. "Everything is a bloody beast." He swore under his breath. Every day he had to please one noble and sacrifice one friendship above the other.

This was what ruling was, losing your humanity in exchange of law and order. It was a price he had gladly paid and he would be willing to pay again if he was met with the same opportunity.

He walked to his death, he did not have a lot but two cups and in his melancholy state was enough to get him drunk. He sunk down and looked at the state of papers, all the letters looked blurry and he could not look at all the numbers in his accounts so he threw them all in the fireplace's direction, some landing in their mark.

Henry sunk his head in his callused palms. He did want to deal with the business of ruling. Coming out of his trance, hearing his logic telling him that he must go on, otherwise the real will suffer, an un-signed sheet caught his attention. It was the letters of condolences from Queen Isabella and her daughter, his son's bride-to-be. Catalina of Aragon.

He took out the miniature his son told him to guard in his drawer. His younger brother Harry had taken a fancy to the Princess and said that when he met her he would propose marriage and seeing how handsome he was, she would prefer him above Arthur. It was child's play but his son was taking no chances. Catalina was his, he said to his father, and his alone.

Henry opened the heart shaped lock she fashioned for him and staring down at her portrait he realized how much she looked the fair ladies described in the Arthurian myths. Like a red haired Guinevere with flawless skin and heart shaped face and blue gems for eyes.

He stared down at the letter and at the Princess' signature. It was better than her mother's and written in flawless Latin and French. He tried to remember what was it Elizabeth had said about the girl/

("She is very intelligent Henry, I think she will not be afraid to challenge our Arthur and put our daughters to shame with her interest in fashions."  
"Nonsense," he said waving his hand dismissively. "She is a young girl, all girls are vain at that age. When she sees what the ladies are wearing here then she will forget about those silly notions and copy everyone else."  
But his wife had not been so sure but she knew better than to argue with his logic.)

At the time Henry thought that it was obvious Henry would make the perfect bride for Arthur, however looking down on this picture and the perfect writing and handling of French and Latin in the letter he realized that a bride like this for his oldest son and heir would only spell doom.

Arthur was strong but not that strong. Even Henry would not be able to handle such a bride. This girl had the perfect appearance, she was red-head, she was fair of face and looks and she had that loveable smile and eyes always looking down, projecting an image of submissiveness that if Henry was not the wily politician and King that he was, he would have swallowed it.

This girl needs someone who can be her equal, someone mature and determined, not a boy who is playing to be King and the other who thinks he can be one.

He put down the miniature and took ink and parchment and began writing to their Graces, the Catholic Kings.

* * *

Catalina did not know what to expect. She had been reared since birth to be Queen. Her mother took her to the battlefield on her fourth birthday where she met the late Queen's uncle, Sir Edward Woodville who help them take the port near Granada. It had been a decisive battle. Taking his port city, they forced the Moors to surrender two years later. They had cut them from the rest of the Moorish world and with no supplies they were brought into desperation. Her mother, being a true leader inspected all the troops and taking Catalina with her, showed her off to her officers and made Catalina memorize each and every one of their names, and not just theirs but those of lower rank too.

"We owe them just as much as they owe us. Without them we wouldn't have anything. Remember, the people are your true family, you belong to them, what you do is for them." Her mother had emphasized that day.

She wheeled to her Moriska maid, she ordered to bring her ink and paper. Her sisters berated her for bothering to remember this creature's name. She was the enemy after all. Their mother fought them all her life.

"That may be true," she told them, "but they are also people and they had converted therefore they were not." –The maid came back, curtsying and leaving her after she had done her bidding.

Catalina smiled at her before she went. She loved being left alone in the vicinity of her own self. Growing up, her mother always emphasized on the importance of family but her father in contrast remarked on the importance of solitude and independence. He didn't like to be told what to do and much less by his wife, but they worked together nonetheless because they loved each other and because together, they made their two nations made the most powerful nation in the world.

Catalina began writing. What should she say to the King of England? That she did not want to marry him because she considered him old and ugly? No. His portrait showed that he wasn't but he was nonetheless old. Catalina shouldn't be caring about this stuff but she did. She was promised to the Prince of Wales, a man who would one day succeed her father and become the King of legend like his namesake. He was the Prince that was promised to her not this old dastardly King.

But nevertheless you are the daughter of Kings and you are promised to whoever your parents say you are promised. And as any good and filial daughter she must do what parents dictated to her.

It didn't erase the sick feeling at the pit of her stomach.

She began with a simple greeting and from there it evolved to a letter of love and expectation; the King would know it was a bluff, but she would act as if it was not and as if he was the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.


	2. Chapter 2

_"All my friends tell me I should move on  
I am lying in the ocean singing your song  
That's how you sing it  
Loving forever can't be wrong even though you are not here,  
Won't move on  
That's how you play it and there's no remedy for memory  
your face is like a melody, it won't leave my head  
your soul has haunted me  
and telling me everything is fine  
but I wish I was dead._

_Every time I close my eyes it's like a dark paradise  
_**No one compares to you**_  
I am scared you won't be waiting on the other side  
Every time I close my eyes it's like a dark paradise  
No one compares to you  
I am scared you won't be waiting on the other side_

_All my friends ask me why I stay strong?  
Telling me when I find true love, it lives on  
That's why I stay here  
and there is no remedy for memory  
your face is like a melody, it won't leave my head  
your soul has haunted me  
and telling me everything is fine  
but I wish I was dead._

_Every time I close my eyes it's like a dark paradise  
No one compares to you  
I am scared you won't be waiting on the other side  
Every time I close my eyes it's like a dark paradise  
No one compares to you  
I am scared you won't be waiting on the other side  
(But there is no you except in my dreams tonight)_

_I don't want to wake up from this tonight._  
_I don't want to wake up from this tonight._

_There is no belief. I see you in my sleep_  
_and everyone is watching me and I can feel you touching me_  
_I can see you in my dreams telling me everything is fine._

_Every time I close my eyes it's like a dark paradise  
No one compares to you  
I am scared you won't be waiting on the other side  
Every time I close my eyes it's like a dark paradise  
No one compares to you  
I am scared you won't be waiting on the other side  
(But there is no you except in my dreams tonight)  
I don't want to wake up from this tonight." ~Dark Paradise by Lana del Rey_

Henry laughed out loud. Things young people said these days. He threw the letters into the fire and kept the golden necklace. It was oval-shaped with a pomegranate covered with ruby dots in the middle and around it roses that symbolized the double rose of his house. On top the letters 'Forever yours' which translated so 'you can remember your promise to me.'

Ha! This girl hadn't even landed yet and she already had dreams of being Queen.

It wasn't going to happen. He wasn't going to make her Queen and that was the end of it. No one could outmatch the King's love for his late Queen. The girl was here solely for the purpose of an alliance and to keep her in control and breed more heirs if necessary, that was it.

He would never make her Queen.

* * *

It was a smooth voyage unlike what it was foretold by her father's astrologer that she would have to wade through waters of vengeance and anger. She arrived a week before her expected date but the King's ministers were already there to greet her.

"Your Highness." They said inclining their heads solemnly for their future Queen.

"Sir Edmund Dudley." She recognized. The man nodded and led her away to her carriage where she boarded with her Duena and two other ladies.

The road to Westminster Palace lasted two weeks. They stopped in every town, Catalina insisted on it. Wherever she found a hospital, she asked to stop. Ignoring the commands of her Duena, she attended every sick man and children that came here and asked them their plight. They were so enthralled by their beauty and her charity that they started to spread the voice that the Infanta was a more charitable soul than any royal had been.

Her Duena told her to watch herself for when she met the King. He would not like anyone over-shadowing the memory of his beloved wife. She had been the greatest charity giver in England when she had been alive, if the King got wind of what she wanted to do he would be furious.

"Why should he be Dona Elvira?" The Princess told her Duena.

"I am doing my Christian duty. It's the duty of any Queen to giver charity to her people and the people here are in need."

"You are not Queen." Dona Elvira reminded her.

"Not yet but I will soon be." Catalina said adding with a sly smile: "When the King marries me and he will marry me," she assured Dona Elvira, "he will crown me and whether it takes one year or ten years it doesn't matter as long as I have his love secured in my hands."

"But you just said!"

"I know what I said Dona Elvira and you can stop your gaping." Dona Elvira closed her mouth. "I. Will. Become. Queen. Of. England. That is a promise."

"Do you really wish to be Queen, child?"

"No, Dona Elvira, I want to be _the_ Queen."She said with a humble yet determined tone looking straight into her Duena's eyes. In that minute Dona Elvira saw the Queen's ambitions shining through her daughter's eyes. This was not just any of Isabella's daughter, this was _her_ offspring. While the others battled with their husbands and themselves over the Queen's kingdom, this daughter was the one who had inherited all of Isabella's cunning and strong devotion. It was a shame that nature had not made her a man or the eldest daughter. What a fine monarch she would have been.

* * *

The King's mother, lady Margaret Beaufort met with the Princess first on her entourage when she reached London on November 12, 1501. She was a fine creature, beloved and already had the commons and lower nobles under her grasp. She knew how to charm anyone and she even charmed the King's mother when she bowed lower to her than she had for any other noble, as she would have for her mother, the Queen regnant of Castile, Isabella I.

Margaret was after all the King's mother and everyone said that her word was as good as the King's. She had heard enough of her to know this was a woman not to be reckoned with. Catalina showed her the fuller reverence by casting down her eyes when she bid her to rise.

"This way." Margaret said sternly, pleased with her future daughter in law's obedience.

The procession was marvelous to behold Pageants of imaginary beasts, phoenixes, and of course it wouldn't be a royal pageant without their legendary monarchs, King Arthur and Guinevere at the head representing their King and future Queen kissing each other and declaring their love for one another. The only thing that was missing was the line where they said they would create a new world, a new Camelot to last a thousand years. Catalina guessed that had been scratched by the King himself since it was his son who represented the continuity of his dynasty not her.

Catalina forced a smile. Things would change. Things _could_ change. If there was one thing she had learned from her cunning master and father it was that, that the winds of winter were always upon them, and always in motion the future was. One day what God giveth, God taketh from thee. And if God willed it, it could be her children who took after the King's dream.

Catalina and the King's mother continued walking, the King's many guards surrounding them so the commons wouldn't reach them.

Catalina couldn't resist when one hand managed to touch hers and before that person was pushed back, she ordered the guard not to, and went to her. It was a little girl who could not be older than four. "What is your name?"

"Margaret but my friends call me Meg."

"That's a great name. The King's mother is called Margaret too. She is right there, wave at her." The girl waved as the King's mother who gave the girl a small smile in return.

"She looks very pretty."

"Indeed she does."

"But you look more pretty." She said boldly smiling shyly.

Catalina put her hand on the girl's shoulder and kissed her cheek, then returned to the line where they continued with their procession and where they encountered greater cheers after they reached their destination.

Prince Arthur, her would have been husband, of Wales and Prince Henry, Duke of York were the ones to greet her.

"Your Highnesses, I am very honored to meet you." Catalina said kissing each of their cheeks. She noted how their cheeks were cold as their attitude.

They would warm up to her soon and if not, she could deal with them. Henry offered his arm and Catalina took it.

He was enthralled by the Princess but did not like the idea of his father marrying someone as young to be his daughter. Hell, he didn't like the idea of her marrying anyone. He promised to hate her for replacing his mother's memory when he heard what she was doing all over the country during progress, but seeing her entrance and looking so grand and _different_, he couldn't bring himself to.

Arthur was a different matter though. He was promised to marry Catalina when he was three and was

Catalina smiled at them both and entered the Great Hall. In, she was received by many servants, many who smiled back at her, already taken by their soon to be Queen. Everyone had expected a haughty Princess, even a haughty show off like the last foreign bride had been, imposing and dominating without a single care in the world except for herself, but instead they got a humble royal. And Catalina decided that this would be her motto; as soon as that crown would be placed on her head –Humble and Loyal.

"My lord, Your Grace." She said humbly bowing lower before she reached the dais for the king. He was seated under a canopy of state. He bid the Princess to rise and climb the steps and join him with his family to dine. She gleefully accepted. The smile reached her eyes as he looked on her with lust-filled eyes then shifted them discreetly, clearing his throat to bring attention to his toast.

The people below seeing the King rise, raised their glasses as he did and cheered after he announced it was with a heavy heart he would take a new wife, but with a glad one he would take one so humble and beautiful such as she.

Catalina drank slowly and very little, gazing intently on the King. All eyes were on her but she only cared for one pair.

* * *

The state dinner had gone well. Catalina retired to the Bishop's palace afterward where she shared rooms with his mother. She told him that she was very happy with the preparations done in her honor and that she was happy to be received so warmly by his people. She had expected to be greeted with hostility. Their late Queen had died not so long ago giving birth to the King's youngest son, and with a wife so young who had previously been engaged to his son, she expressed her worries that the towns would hate her, even decry her as a sinner for taking their beloved Queen's position.

But Henry's kindness had made that impossible.

Henry was glad that she felt that way. He wanted nothing more than the girl to be comfortable so she would write to her mother and tell her that the King of England was a worthy husband and a good host. It would convince the Queen of Castile of her husband's decision to wed their youngest daughter to him.

Henry had to confess he was nervous. He had not known another woman since he and Elizabeth last laid together on the night they conceived Edmund. Since then his bed had been very cold and although he was not a lusty man, he was a man nonetheless with needs to be fulfilled and he had to admit, the girl was rather beautiful.

He sighed. Could he really go on with this? The girl was young enough to be his own daughter for Pete's sake but this alliance was so vital for him and Arthur was so young, so easily manipulated by beauty and charm and Harry … oh Harry he would be so easily manipulate by a pretty face and a wet cunt. God only knows what the boy thinks when he is not attending his studies.

He was too much like his grandfather, that was too fear.

He was undressed and lain on his bed. His yeomen of the guard were outside as usual and he slept –alone as usual. Tomorrow he would be a husband with a new wife and a new consort. Possible even, a new child.

No child could erase the memory of his present children, of the child he and Elizabeth had lost, it represented the strong bond they had forged –through rivers of tears and blood.

Henry closed his eyes and quieting all these thoughts, he drifted into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

The day of the wedding had arrived. Catalina chose the traditional Spanish fashions. Margaret did not approve but it was not her choice to make. She was the King's wife to be and as a foreigner her customs were different than England's so they had to be patient until she adapted herself to them.

She asked her lady, Francesca de Caseres to help her companion adjust her hat. It was an odd hat, her English ladies remarked. It was in the shape of a Cardinal's hat (almost) and like the rest of her clothing, it was white with a golden lace in the middle and pearls and diamonds encrusted in it. Her earrings were simple but shiny to denote her status and her train was carried by one of the late Queen's sisters.

As they reached the Abbey, she took a moment to inhale and exhale and ponder on this moment. Today I will enter an Infanta –she thought- and come out a Queen of England. My name will no longer be Catalina but from this day on, it will be Katherine, Queen of England.

And she would not just be Queen in name, but in all that concerned she would be Queen of this realm and Queen of Henry's heart and of his people. She wheeled around and lifted her hand and waved at them, slowly and carefully, turning to each poor man and woman's face, taking in their expression and paying close attention to each of them.

To them, it seemed like the Princess was looking at them directly, it was like she was looking into their souls; the first Queen that took the time to notice them before she went to do her royal duties.

Seeing it was enough, she spun around and continued her procession entering the Abbey where Henry was already there, impatiently waiting.

Let him wait more –Katherine thought as she glided slowly towards him.

Taking each face, each expression, she softened hers when she met a look of disapproval from one of the nobles. In one instant they were transformed.

Henry was impressed. Hearing the throng of cries of approval outside made him change his mind about this girl.

(Never had he received this much cry of approval since he made Elizabeth his Queen. If this was now, he could only imagine how it would be when he crowned her Queen).

The Archbishop of Canterbury asked everyone to be seated. "Dearly beloved," He began "We are gathered here today,"

His words got lost in the echo of cheering from the multitude gathered outside Westminster Abbey. Henry briefly turned to his wife. She was looking directly at the priest, paying no attention to him and fixating her eyes from time to time at the cross where their savior lay. The way her eyes never blinked and firmly looked on the crucifix told Henry she was deeply devout and that he would benefit a lot from such a woman, for devoutness seeded obedience and piety in women.

Mary, the Holy Virgin, Katherine fixated her eyes on Christ's holy mother. Just as the virgin she would emulate her image and strive to become her. The late Queen's brothers, God rest their souls, were deeply devoted to this figure, they had been willing to die for her, kill for her. The second Earl of Rivers asked to be interred in a place close to her, his wishes were not heeded by the Usurper and then the late Edward Woodville, following in his brother's footsteps had done the same. He had gone unto more pilgrimages and crusades. He had assisted her parents taking down the city-port next to Granada, that had ensured a major victory for Spain and ensured taking Granada three years later. They never forgot him, years later when he got in trouble with the Tudor King, her mother had spoken in his favor and asked for leniency.

These people were remembered for their devotion –And for the trouble they caused. Katherine would be remembered for her devotion. She would go down into posterity as the Queen who got Henry out of his melancholy

Casting her eyes down as the Archbishop was finishing his sermon, she then turned to Henry as rings were passed down and he put hers on her finger. She pronounced the words, adding a solemn vow "and I now Katherine swear to be the King's humble and subservient servant now and forever until God does us part …"

Henry followed. He was momentarily stunned by her words, her solemnity and her humbled looks.

The Archbishop cleared his throat and Henry nodded, composing himself. "Yes, I Henry …v-vow to be your servant, loving husband and King and lord from this day until God does us part."

The guests gathered there turned their heads to each other, bewildered and shocked by what they just heard.

Had the King really said 'I swear to be your servant?' What was this? They thought.

Margaret pressed her fists together. This was so unlike Henry! She kept her face impassive and listened to the rest of the service, hoping for the first time since she had first set foot on a church that it would be over soon.

"Let us rejoice and all of you go in peace," the Archbishop said, declaring the mass over and blessing the couple one last time before they exited the Abbey together, holding hands.

* * *

"My lady." Katherine turned her head to the young Prince. "Yes, my handsome lord?"

Henry blushed. "May I have this dance?"

Katherine turned to her new husband. "Of course, dance as much as you will." Henry told them.

"Thank you, my lord." Katherine said curtsying before letting her young stepson guide her to the dance floor.

"You don't have to pretend. I know that father can be difficult to please."

"I take no pleasure or displeasure pleasing your father Henry, I truly feel it's my vocation. I am his wife and he is my King and I am pleased to do what he asks of me."

Harry was not satisfied with her answer. "It's okay Henry, I know it's hard for you getting used to a woman so young as me. You feel as I am stepping on your mother's shoes and I assure you I am not. I can never replace the memory of your mother, she was a good woman and your father will forever honor her memory. I am only here on my parents and your father's bidding."

"I know that and I don't blame you but …"

"But what?" Katherine gently prodded as he put his arm around her. He was tall for a boy of nine –and handsome too –she saw. He will break many hearts.

"Don't you find it repulsive?"

Katherine thought a minute before answering. Indeed, she did at first but she would not say this to a child, much less a child who appeared to be too reckless and passionate like his hot blooded Yorkist ancestors. She had to think of an answer that both satisfied his curiosity and convinced him.

"No. One must do what one was raised to do and it is in God's commandments that a child should always be filial to his or her parents."

"But what if a child was asked to go against the King or do something that he or she knows goes against the teachings of the church, what then, would he or she still be held responsible?"

"You are a very thoughtful child Henry and these are very valid concerns; but you must not concern yourself with them. God takes care after his flock, he will know what is right and what is wrong. Remember he forgave those that broke his rules when it was done in the name of justice and His."

"But what if there is no shepherd?"

"There will always be a shepherd, sheep will always need one. Your father is God's main shepherd on this land and as long as he is King he will make sure people carry out with their responsibilities."

"And Arthur? He will be King after father, are you not afraid what kind of King he will be?"

Katherine did not miss the contempt in the boy's voice when he said his brother's name. He was jealous that he was born after and was not the Prince of Wales and enjoyed the liberty his brother enjoyed ruling over his own territory and with his own court and servants at his every disposal.

"Why should I be afraid? Arthur is your brother and he is your father's son just like you, he will make a good King."

"You just say that because you've just known me but if you knew Arthur as well as I do you wouldn't say that."

Katherine cocked her head and looked at him questioningly but Harry did not say more. The dance ended and his father signaled for them to come back. He wanted to dance with the bride himself.

Henry watched the new couple dance, his father was not a good dancer as he was but he knew the steps and he showed himself more enthusiastic than the others/ Harry loved the way Catalina smiled at him and cast her eyelashes down, discreetly covering her seductive and beautiful eyes, and that she called him 'Henry' instead of Harry and treated him like an adult.

He felt a little jealousy when they finished and people applauded and remarked how beautiful and merry the new couple were.

He was old enough to be her father and the poor Princess, raised all her life to do what her parents wanted her, knew no better. And yet, Harry found no fault in her except for her union with her father but that wasn't even her doing. She was only doing what her parents and church had taught her to do and without any complaint. Harry admired that.

"Shall we sit down my lord?" Katherine asked wrapping her arm gently around his left arm.

"Are you tired already?"

"Yes, I am afraid I am stranger to these dances, I passed most of my time studying and praying, I do not have the strength you have. Forgive me." She said casting her eyes down.

"No, you shouldn't feel ashamed, it's perfectly understandable. I am a stranger to this country myself."

"You?" Katherine asked very startled at the King's revelation.

"Yes." Henry said with a small chuckle, leading her to their table. "I grew on Welsh country and even when I was a ward of the Herbert family I always identified myself more with Welsh customs than I did with English ones."

"And then you went to Brittany, I imagine you must have learned a lot there."

"When I wasn't in hiding I did. Perhaps I could teach you some of the Breton customs and French romances if you haven't read them already?"

"I would be delighted to. My tutor's curriculum was very strict, I was not allowed to learn anything but religious works and English myths, the only French work I was taught has to do with your Arthurian legends."

"What romance is that?"

"The romances of Chetienne de Troyes. Does Your Grace know them?"

"I do. They were a favorite of mine growing up but you have to read on Tristan and Yseult, there is nothing better than a pair of lovers who defy fate and against all odds succeed in their enterprise to be together. It's a shame fate always tears them apart."

The way of the King's speech was so matter of fact, business-like but Katherine enjoyed his forward manner.

"Fate is rarely just that is why we must make the most of this life, we never know what God has in store for us."

"Yes … yes, you are right." Henry slid his hand on the table reaching for hers, giving it a gentle grasp.

Margaret inclined her head forward, looking in disapproval at this show of affection, knowing exactly what this meant.

"Isn't she marvelous lady grandmother?" Harry asked her, in awe of his new stepmother, forgetting his jealousy. "She acts like a true Queen."

"She sure does."

* * *

Katherine tensed as her maids took off her garments and dressed her in a simple linen nightgown. The Archbishop came to bless their bed, accompanied by the King. She was breathed in the hot air. It was heavy with incense and from the fragrance of roses that surrounded the room. If she had not known better, this looked more like Venus' chamber than it looked the King's.

"The bride shall now lay on her bed-"

"I know the procedure Archbishop, you may leave us."

"But Your Grace we need proof-"

"I say leave us! You will have your proof on the morrow when the maids pick up the sheets." Henry said.

The y left the couple alone. Henry turned his attention to his young bride. She looked at him with big round eyes. She felt grateful that he had ordered those people out. She was nervous to consummate with the consummation, she knew it was protocol to have witnesses but she could not help but feel some shame with so many there. She thought she would not be able to perform, thankfully it was only Henry and her now.

He advanced slowly to her and signaled for her to lie down on her back. He put himself on top of her and began kissing her gently. His kisses relaxed her then he began to touch her, not like before but in an intimate manner that stirred the flesh between her thighs and conjured impure thoughts.

Henry took her nightgown then did away with his. Under the influence of love and the sweet aroma of roses , the King and the Infanta consummated their union.


	3. Chapter 3

_"Seven devils all around you  
Seven devils in my heart  
I was dead when I woke up this morning  
and I will be dead when the day is done" ~Seven Devils by Florence and the Machine_

Catalina embraced the throng of cries from the multitude of Londonners below. It had been one year since she and Henry were married and so much had happened since then.

Henry lifted heir newborn Prince. "A Prince of England." He cried. The crowds cheered.

Arthur and her father were chosen to be the godfathers of her child. Since the King of Aragon could not be present, her parents' ambassador, de Puebla stood in his stead.

Arthur had looked down on his newborn brother's face. His father's new woman had been anxious to see her son christened. She had planned it before she was pregnant. He had heard his father talk about it; it should be a grand ceremony to keep the Catholic Kings pleased and let the world see how united the Tudor family was.

Harry had been her first choice but his father wouldn't have it. For once he got her way since this marriage started. It should be Arthur, he said, because he was his firstborn and he would be King someday, therefore he had to be at the helm of every celebration. He was after all, Arthur Prince of Wales, not just his father's son but his mother's son as well. He represented the future, the union between both houses, Lancaster and York while Harry was only the second son and this woman's, albeit boasting of greater lineage than they, only represented one house of the Plantagenet dynasty.

Katherine had to wait the standard thirty days for churching so she could reenter into the world and join the celebrations. Each day she counted them, yearning with joy when she could hold her son again and stand before Henry as they cheered in their name. And now that it had arrived, she was overwhelmed with positive feelings.

They had welcomed her with open arms and she intended to return the favor by showing herself humble and loyal to her adoptive country.

"This is your triumph." Henry said, very pleased.

"No. our triumph." She said with a warm smile holding his hand while handling the infant Prince with her other one.

Katherine they called her now, but she still thought of herself as Catalina. She always would. In the back of her mind, there would always remain that part of her that still clung to her home-country.

Arthur crossed his arms and discretely walked away without anyone seeing him. His father once again clung to his wife's popularity, as he had done with his mother.

The young woman should have been his wife and that should be his son he should be holding but his father always had to have it all. Arthur settled himself into his new life as his brother's godfather. He took care of his brother's account, his mother's jewelry, her fettes and lastly her household accounts. His father told him it was not his responsibility. As his firstborn son he worried about him constantly and he didn't want him to be burdened constantly more than he should.

Arthur saw it as his duty not as his obligation. He was going to be patriarch of his father's dynasty someday and he wanted to get familiar with his duties. Unlike Harry who over-indulged in his father's wealth, he took his responsibilities very seriously.

Arthur kept vigil of his brother's chambers. When everyone was asleep he sunk into his chambers and watched his infant brother sleep, making sure he was breathing correctly. He looked nothing like him or his late sibling, Elizabeth. He possessed the Beaufort inheritance, red hair and blue eyes, he had seen them before when his lady grandmother carried him on his Christening. He was beautiful, a son every father would be proud to have.

Arthur's lips twisted as the baby turned in his sleep. Just what would his role be in his government? His father never thought of having a son of his church, in spite of his deep devotion to the mother church. Arthur thought that a good way to keep his brothers from squabbling and upsetting the balance of power, would be to get the youngest of them into Church. Naturally, Harry had been his first choice. He was always competing with Arthur and boasting of his great feats, putting him in the church would solve the problem. But now with this new child, he was the more logical option.

If he was reared since childhood into a life of piety, he would prove a good church servant.

Arthur left the room quietly and returned to his quarters. On his way he heard his father and Catalina laugh as they enjoyed his late mother's fool –Patches –make fun of the French King. Arthur glued his ear to the door to listen more on what they were saying but he couldn't hear a thing. His father ordered his Welsh musicians to begin playing and amidst all the laughter and music, their voices got lost.

Arthur withdrew his ear and went on his way.

Inside, unbeknownst to the teenager, Henry was smiling in triumph. His son had never been the sneakier of princes, not like Harry who could always sneak on you or come from the most unexpected places without you ever knowing he was there. Arthur was just too loud and too careless.

He signaled them to stop. "Is he gone?" Katherine asked her husband taking another grapefruit into her mouth.

"Yes. Poor Arthur."

"He is jealous. Can you blame him my lord?"

"I dare say I can. At his age I had known many women but I always put my duty first than my cock."

"Sire." She said in shock.

"I am sorry did I shock you my sweet? I don't suppose Spain rears their Princesses to hear such things but this is England and you are with an English rogue, not the fanciest of matches I suppose you were expecting."

"No, quite the contrary. I prefer to have a man seasoned in fighting than a man dressed in shining armour." Henry looked at her skeptically, chuckling. "A man whose armour always shines is a man who has never known war. Those who don't fight battles, can't call themselves men." She moved closer. "You are a King." She said, her sky blue eyes bore into his. Her meaning clear.

"Yes." He said hyptonized by those eyes.

* * *

Arthur threw the cup. His fool Patches he had inherited from his mother was the unfortunate receptor of his anger.

"My lord worry not for your father is old and you are young, if you are as handsome as your target's unfortunate luck, there will be no cause to despair."

But Arthur didn't listen. He never listened. His mother only had Patches because she need a diversion from her boring life next to her father. She preferred to be an active Queen, to take on the role his grandmother and mother had taken but her father only had one master and that was him. Not even god would change that.

He had to find a new outlet for his anger however; he couldn't take advantage of Patches forever, the fool was getting old and one day his bones would be too fragile for him to keep throwing things at.

Then it hit him. That was it! Arthur stopped his pacing.

He dismissed his fool and started writing. His lady grandmother, the late Elizabeth Woodville, taught him that when he could not get what he wanted to use his brain and make use of his time. Time, she said builds character. His grandfather, Edward IV and his great uncle, Henry V, were patient. They waited for years to make the thrones of England and France respectively theirs. Arthur would not commit the same mistake his grand-uncle's wife did, by giving in to his anger too soon and act too hastely.

"My lord Prince." His groom greeted doing the stately bow. Arthur gave him the message to relay to his grandmother.

"You shall give it to her and to her alone. If anyone should stop you on the way tomorrow you tell them you are under strict orders of mine, understood?"

"Yes my lord."

"Good now go."

His lady grandmother would look at the message and think he was mad at first but he would state his case that he was sixteen and near the age where every Prince ought to be married to father children and secure the future of the Tudor dynasty.

If his father would not listen to him, he would listen to his mother. After all, besotted as he was with his young Spanish bride, he was still Margaret Beaufort's son and everything he had, including his crown, he owed it to her.

* * *

Margaret Beaufort looked at her grandson as if he had lost his mind. Yes, she agreed with him on that point. But the boy was very young still. They had not even sent Margaret away for the same reason that she was too young and could be proven fatal if she consummated her marriage to the King of Scotland who seemed all too eager to take her after he had been told of her beauty.

"It will be different lady grandmother."

"How so? Margaret will be fourteen this year and you will be seventeen, both of you too young for these things."

"No we shan't. Margaret knows her duty and same as I. You have raised us well."

Not well enough. Margaret thought. She sighed. "I suppose this is your father's idea. He's told me that Margaret is very eager to move to Scotland because she doesn't like Katherine."

So that is what she is calling herself now. Arthur thought.

"I told him 'Henry you are not sending that poor girl to Scotland, it's too rough a land and Margaret is used to nice things and she may never grow too fond of that land but oh your father hardly listens to me these days."

"He will listen to you if you insist on him grandma. I am my father's heir and you know how fond he is on my mother's memory. Of all her sons I am the only one who inherited her looks, that is bound to conjure some sense of obligation to his first great love when you tell him of her desire to see me married and with children before he dies."

"He will not believe it."

"He will if you tell him."

Margaret Richmond did not look convinced. She crossed her arms and advanced towards Arthur, looking at him pointedly with her shrewd gaze. Had he been Harry, he would have been intimidated but thank god he wasn't. "What has gotten into you? Is this about her?"

"Her, you mean Katherine? Of course not, lady grandmother. This has nothing to do with her. I want to marry so I can produce heirs to ensure the survival of our dynasty."

"Why do I not believe you Arthur? When your lady grandmother, god rest her soul, lied she would do that thing with your eyes that you are doing right now."

"You can't expect me not to blink. It's a natural necessity."

"Do not play coy with me Arthur, I do no longer have the time nor the patience for you younglings that I used to have." Meg chided gently going to sit. She extended her legs and rested them on a cushioned stool put for her at her request by her ladies.

" You will always have the patience for your grandchildren, grandmother. I know you want what is best for us, please grant me this request. It will be my Christmas present." He put up a devilish smirk.

How could she say no to that face? Arthur knew how to charm better than Henry, he had that Yorkist-Woodville charm that his other siblings lacked.

"Oh, alright." Arthur kissed her cheeks. "But she shall be someone I approve. "

"I have no problem with that, as long as I get to marry her." He said heading to the door but his grandmother's voice stopped him.

"Arthur!"

"Yes?"

"If I do not approve of her, will you accept my judgment?"

"I said I would lady grandmother and that means I will." He said then he left.

Youths. They were all too eager to wed and deflower as many girls as possible. If it wasn't for Christ being a man and all his apostles men as well, Margaret would not think them the best sex.

She had many girls on her mind for Arthur, even before Katherine arrived, there were always back-ups in case the Spanish alliance was compromised or if any of the monarchs died earlier and the girl would lose all her appeal.

France of course was out of the question, the girl would protest and she didn't have the patience for her little followers, her youngest grandchildren who always sided with her. Savoy was another option but they weren't an attractive prospect for Henry who wanted brides from important duchies or kingdoms like Spain and France.

Who then?

* * *

"Did you hear the news Arthur is about to marry?" Harry asked Catalina who more than ever insisted on being called Katherine. To Harry she would always be Catalina, the beautiful girl who had traveled from Spain into English shores to marry his old father. Lucky old man, he thought. He wished he would marry someone as beautiful as her someday. He day dreamed about what it would be like if he was King and it was him by Catalina's side instead of his father.

He mentally shrugged. He guessed his time would come. These were things adults were to be concerned with, not younglings like him. He had all the time in the world, his grandmother told him.

"Yes I did."

"Are you not excited?" Harry asked. "You don't look like it."

"Your father and I just have a lot of things on our mind and it took us by surprise when he expressed his wish to marry." Especially the daughter of a minor Duke, albeit a ruling one.

"But I heard she is nice and beautiful (though not as beautiful as you)." He quickly added.

She smiled gently at the young boy. "You compliment me too much Harry. But I am sure when you see the Princess of Wales you will change your mind."

"Nuh-uh. I will never change my mind about you Catalina." And he pulled her into a hug with his massive arms. He was only eleven, people called him 'kid' 'boy' but he understood better than most adults, indeed he had an adult's minds and the tutors he had, that Arthur once had, said that he was a credit to his family.

Katherine couldn't escape from his powerful embrace -even if she wanted to.

"I know you want everyone to call you Katherine but you will always be Catalina to me and as soon as I turn twelve I promise you I will start taking on my role as Duke of York and Knight of the Bath more seriously."

"Oh Henry, you don't have to that for me and your father." She said gently pulling from the boy as his grip loosened. "We are all proud of very proud of you. You do better than most on the lists and your father roots for you more than he does for Arthur."

"He does? I-I never heard him say that."

"That's because he doesn't want to put you at odds with each other. When your brother is King you will be there to help him as his right hand. You will be defacto King."

"Really?" Katherine nodded. "King, you say?"

"Defacto King." Katherine clarified but Harry didn't hear. He was too caught up in the enchantment that the word 'King' conjured. 'King' he thought. King Henry VIII. He looked up at her gentle face. "Do you think I would make a good ruler?"

"Of course I do. You are as your namesake and the great founder of the York dynasty, your grandfather Edward, a conqueror."

Henry smiled broadly. His ego was fed by the Princess and pleased by this, he talked no more of Princesses and marriages.

She was glad. She got what she wanted -to silence him and put his doubts to rest. But most of all she got to test his loyalties and proved once and for all what she always knew was true, that Harry was malleable and easy to manipulate. Like his grandfather, the Yorkist Edward IV, you just needed to say a few nice words and you had him in your grasp.

By contrast, Henry was not that easy to please. Her husband expected Arthur to wait a few more years until he decided for a better alliance but Katherine, while not keen on this union, was still her parents' agent and if they believed that the Lady Catherine of Mecklenburg (daughter of Magnus II of Mecklenburg, a small German territory that the Holy Roman Emperor, Maximilian II, her sister's father in law favored) made for a better alliance, then so did she.

But Henry senior was still not convinced. "He is too young." He argued. "Margaret is going to Scotland this year. Her entourage is prepared. It would look bad if she leaves before Arthur and Arthur ..." he scratched his chin "he is only sixteen."

"Soon to be seventeen." She reminded loosening her nightgown.

He sat on his bed and took his robe bearing only his chemise.

She came forward and put her arms around his waist. "You married Elizabeth when she was twenty, her father began to make proposals for your marriage when she was eighteen. Other boys and girls get married younger. You married me when I was only fifteen, you would not have done so if you considered me too young and inexperienced."

"That is different. You were a Princess of Spain and beautiful and ... oh..." She had squeezed too hard. "Sorry." She said. "I get too clumsy when I am with you." She neared his face and rubbed her cheek against his.

"Don't do that again. I am too old-"

"You are not to me." She said softly then whispered in his ear, after kissing his earlobe. "Arthur is young and curious, he will grow up before you know it and ask why he is twenty and not yet married. At an age where most boys lose their innocence, don't you think it's better he loses it to his wife than to a common harlot?"

"I had not thought of that." Henry confessed going into deep thought. Yes, that made a lot of sense. Why should he let his son repeat his same mistakes? He had known a lot of women when he was in Brittany and France but he had never loved any of them, and he always regretted leaving them behind and heartbroken. This way Arthur would not break anyone's heart and the alliance would Spain would remain as strong and ever and he would gain another ally, Philip of Hapsburg whose wife was the sole heir to Castile.

Yes, it is a good choice. Henry thought aloud and Katherine pleased to hear this withdrew her arms and lay on her back; Henry positioned himself and took her.

* * *

Catherine had heard many things about England. She was younger than her groom. One year to be exact but this made her all the more attractive to her English peers. If the Infanta had been sweet and gentle, this one would be milk and honey. However when she arrived to London and she was received by her husband, the disappointment was evident on his face.

"My lord Prince." She said coming to her knees to greet him.

Arthur suppressed a disappointed sigh. She was not Catalina, that was evident but she was still beautiful and judging by her hips and her mellowed face, he judged she would make a good spouse.

"My lady," He said taking her hand.. "Welcome to England."

Catherine rose to her feet. The King's consort and her future mother in law were there waiting for her, along with the rest of the royal children. The King's middle son named after him, gave her a kind smile that did not reach his eyes. The King's wife was a different matter. Not yet crowned but with an air of arrogance that Catherine did not see, her gentle smile and humble expression made the German Princess feel at home.

She gave the young girl a hug and a word of advice on the first dance. "Thank you, Your Grace, it is all so new to me. I am glad to have a friend such as you."

Katherine smiled back and held the girl's hand. She was so inexperienced. How would she ever make a Queen of England, let alone Regent when her husband went abroad to fight his country's battles? It was a good thing that the country had her.

Turning her attention to her husband who was idly chatting with his mother, she started to think of her own position. Arthur seemed like the kind of man who would not doubt to crown his wife as his uncle Richard had done when he ascended to the throne. To establish legitimacy he would crown both himself and his consort. Unlike me. Katherine would remedy that. It took Elizabeth Plantagenet one long year before she was crowned. Katherine would not wait more than that. She had waited long enough. Given Henry a son and (she suspected) had another on the way. She had proven herself to him and his country. It was high time he crowned her so she would be his Queen, not just in heart but in name as well.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks to my constant reviewers Biancurt and Kittenallie.  
**

_'World was on fire, no one would save me but you  
It's strange what desire will make foolish people do_

_I'd never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you_  
_No, I'd never dreamed that I'd loose somebody like you_

_No, I don't wanna fall in love_  
_No, I don't wanna fall in love_  
_..with you_

_What a wicked thing to play_  
_to make me feel this way_  
_What wicked thing to do_  
_to make me dream of you_  
_What wicked thing to say_  
_I never felt this way_  
_What wicked thing to do_  
_to make me dream of you_

_No, I don't want to fall in love_  
_No, I don't want to fall in love_  
_... With you_

_The World is on Fire_  
_No one will save me but You_  
_Strange what desire will make foolish people do_

_No, I don't want to fall in love_  
_No, I don't want to fall in love_  
_... With you'_  
_~Wicked Game by Coves  
_

Catherine was all smiles and compliments; she was a sweetheart everyone said. Perfect manners, the perfect lady. But for every sweet mannered gesture she revealed another flaw.

Whereas Catherine was sweet for need of attention and eager for friendship, Katherine's sweet nature was purely drawn out of a need to survive. Early in her childhood she had been witnessed to the defeated King, Boabdil present himself before her mother and father, waving a flag of surrender and giving the keys of the last Moorish kingdom of Granada in Spain to her father then her mother. On that day she had learned an important lesson she was never to forget –strength is not borne by numbers but by perseverance. Her mother would have never ascended to the throne of Castile had it not been for her strong spirit and her cunning mind.

Equally, Katherine intended to succeed her mother as the greatest Queen that ever lived, albeit through her husband. And it was in this key factor that the difference lay because no matter how much ambition and enchantment Katherine spent on her husband, she would always be second and until her coronation she would still be a mere consort while Catherine, sweet and weak creature as she was, would one day be crowned Queen together with her husband and under her influence, they would rule jointly as one.

Katherine set her hands on her lap. Her belly was growing and it was ever the proof of her fertility. Her husband could not deny her the right to call herself Queen any longer. But oh Henry and his male pride. These Englishmen wanted to feel the rulers of their own destinies, they didn't trust anyone, least of all their women. Feeble creatures, too scared of the better sex.

Her husband entered the room and Katherine rose to greet him. He kissed her on both cheeks and asked her to dismiss the rest of her ladies, he had something important to tell her.

"I have talked with parliament and received an angry letter from your mother."

She tilted her head and furrowed her brow in concern.

"Do not worry, she didn't say anything out of the ordinary but she did make me think and I have been thinking on this a lot. Catalina … I love you and I love what you've brought me and I have not been just to you –please let me finish." He said rising his hand upon seeing her lips move. His beautiful wife was always defending him and telling him it was his right as her husband to do what he pleased and as a King, but for once he wanted to feel like a man, not a king or a husband, but a man, a fair man who was doing what was right for his wife. "I have been cold and distant and it's because I love you, I have loved you more than I have my late wife and I've been scared to admit it until now." His eyes fell to her mid-section that was beginning to swell with new life. "We are going to have another son and I want him with our Owen to be proud of what he is without feeling any lesser than his siblings."

Katherine suppressed the urge to smile. There, she knew it. It was coming.

"I have decided to set a date for your coronation. You shall be crowned on the twenty fourth of October."

"But that is next month!"

"I know it's too soon but I cannot wait. Catalina." He sank to his knees and grabbed her hands, pushing his head slightly against her belly, feeling the child inside her move. "I want you to be my undoubted Queen. I want you to be loved and worshipped just as you deserve."

"My lord … I don't know what to say."

"Say that you accept the honor." He said, his voice almost pleading with her.

"Yes." She said with a chuckle, unable to suppress her mirth. Her dreams had come true and the child within her, sensing its mother excitement kicked with joy.

Henry sprang to his feet and kissed her squarely on the lips. "You are extraordinary. I will make sure you have a crowd filled with nobles and peasants from every corner." He went on telling her of all the pageants that would greet her when she would come out of the Tower of London dressed in gold and silver with diamonds and pearls on her hair which would hung loose to symbolize her pure status.

Katherine listened in, with an open smile that only became wider and a chuckle of joy at ever word. She would be his undoubted Queen.

There would be no need to pull a crowd, Katherine could move one in seconds, the people loved her and she had seen the effect she had on them. She visited every orphanage and hospital and church where the poor gathered every month, sometimes every week just to wash their feet and give them alms and they all loved her for it, remarking that no Queen hung her head so low or showed them such respect as she would show a pope or a fellow monarch for them.

Henry slid his hands down to her hands and grabbed them again. She saw his look and asked what was wrong?

"I have not felt this excited since I became King and since I was told that I could see my mother again."

"I thought you said that it was your late wife that made you feel special."

"She did for a time until I realize the true treasure was you."

"So I am to be your beloved Queen then?"

"Yes, you are and when you die, I pray to God it is not for a long time, you will be by my side before Elizabeth."

Katherine smiled and boldly pushed him forward, pushing her lips against his. "What shall I wear for the after-feast?" She asked after their lips parted.

Henry's mind reeled with many impure thoughts. There were many gowns she possessed that could be altered just to suit those impure thoughts but seeing her with her hair trapped in her Flemish hood, he opted to wait for what she surprised him in instead.

"Whatever you wish."

"Whatever I wish," Katherine breathed feeling his face near hers again. "Then that means I get to make a grand entrance to your bedroom." She slid his hands to her wait then down her hips.

"You will make a grand entrance, we will have all the night to ourselves with no one to interrupt us." He said getting lost in the moment, letting their instincts guide them as they fell prey to lust again.

Arthur stood hidden behind the slightly open door to her bedchamber. He intended to visit Katherine with the excuse of seeing how she was faring with her pregnancy; but to his chagrin his father had to be there. It disgusted him the way he saw his father kiss her, she was beautiful and still a highly desirable young woman and she was wasting her life by being with him. But what angered him the most was hearing his father disrespecting his mother's memory, declaring he loved her more.

The Prince squeezed his fists as he saw his father take his wife to bed and make love to her; his loins stirred when he heard her moans, calling out his name. He pictured himself in his father's stead, Katherine screaming his name instead of his. One day, he vowed, when he was King, he would have what was denied to him and if he had to take it by force then so be it.

* * *

Katherine emerged from the Tower of London, sitting on her white palfrey she greeted all the onlookers and Londoners and other Englishmen who had come from all over the country. Henry did not need to drag them, as she promised her name was all they needed to make the long trek to London.

As pilgrims in a holy war, they viewed their new Queen as the emulation of everything that was holy, as the Virgin herself and she chose to wore white for this very special occasion with gold threads on her square neckline and pearls, diamonds and other precious gemstones adorning her hair which flew freely, cascading past her shoulders like a river of fire. Her blue eyes were cast down as a symbol of humility as she accepted the praises from the crowds.

Reaching Westminster Abbey, she stepped down and her shoes were taken by one of the lesser noblemen. White and red rose petals were thrown before her as she made her way to Saint Edward's chair. Unlike other Queens who had been crowned with Queen Edith's crown, Henry had chosen the crown of the Confessor himself.

If Elizabeth presented the old order withering away with her marriage, uniting the houses of York and Lancaster, Katherine represented something else entirely. She was not just any noble bride, she was a royal bride. Royal by birth and raised to nothing less but a Queen in name and spirit. Since the days her mother had carried her amidst the battlefields of Spain, she had vowed this child would grow up to be strong and mindful of her destiny unlike her others. Juana had spoiled her chances to be her husband's beloved by choosing love over ambition and the rest of her sisters were no different. They wanted nothing more than to feel love and be loved in return.  
Love, her father said was a weakness that in a woman was most dangerous. Katherine was not going to let this sickness dominate her life. _Love no one but your children, on that front a parent has no choice. As for the rest be mindful Catalina, people who claim they love you will ask you to do things for them, say things for them that are not true and before you know it you have become their willing slave._ Be no one else's puppet but your own -were her father's last words before she set sail.

"En nomini ..." the head of the Catholic church in England, the Archbishop of Canterbury started to pronounce the words, anointing her with the holy oils as he went on her breast and her forehead.

Then the time came. The crown of the Confessor was put on top of her head. "I give you the Queen of England. God Save The Queen!" His voice rang through the halls of the Abbey.

"GOD SAVE THE QUEEN!" They all shouted and the choir began to sing.

Katherine's lips twisted into a large smile as she held the orb and the scepter. This was the greatest day of her life. Queen, not just in spirit but in name. She would be Queen undoubted and unbroken, way into his death, people would still call her 'Your Grace' and bear her the same respect to which they did their Kings.

This was the role that Katherine was born to play and this was the role that she would die in.

* * *

Her son Owen was held by his nurse. "My sweet boy." He recognized the voice of his mama and extended his arms out to her. "How you have grown. Thank you mistress Archer. You have done excellent with his care."

"Your Grace." Their moment was interrupted by a voice she knew all too well. It was Arthur. "Your court awaits you."

"Thank you." She said to her son's nurse and handed him back to her. They followed her as she wrapped her arm around Arthur. "Thank you for the reception my lord Prince, you and Catherine have outdone yourselves." She exclaimed as she entered the great hall of Greenwich.

"How is Catherine by the way? I didn't see her at the coronation."

"Catherine did not feel well." Arthur said, pursing his lips as he thought of their last quarrel.

"Poor dear, the ceremonies must have proven too much for her. Send her my love and tell her We hope to see her soon."

Arthur nodded. They stepped on the dais and took their respective seats. "You were great, you made me very proud." Henry said.

They began feasting bringing the first course.

Margaret looked at the Queen sitting next to them, three seats away. "Isn't she beautiful Maggie?" Mary asked, besotted as the rest of the young girls and eager to copy everything from her hairstyle to her clothes.

"I have seen better. You would do better not to stare Mary. The Queen is said not to like it."

"I never heard that. Papa seems really happy with her. What do you think her next child will be? I hope a girl, I would like us to have another sister."

"I don't."

Mary cringed at her sister's tone. "Why are you so upset Maggie? I thought you would be happy. Father has gained a new Queen and we have a new mother."

"Father has gained nothing but an empty alliance with a country that's not even a country. Don't you see Mary, she is playing you just as she is playing the entire court. If I were in her position I would not flaunt myself before my husband, I would be serious, regal, just like mother was."

"But mother did show off her jewels, you remember how she liked to show off father's presents when she received the ambassadors in her room-"

"Shh! Mary that is enough!" Margaret hissed, not liking to hear anyone speak ill of her saintly mother.

Mary pressed her lips together and said no more. She didn't understand why Margaret was so upset. Father's new Queen had been good to them since she'd come. She befriended them and gave them gifts, and she praised Mary constantly carrying her in her arms when she wasn't pregnant or preoccupied with some business in her household, telling her that one day she would be Holy Roman Empress or Queen of a major kingdom.  
Shifting her glance from the happy couple to her unhappy sister, Mary realized that Margaret was jealous. She was going to head off to Scotland next year, an entourage she had been waiting for since last year to marry the King of Scotland. She would be Queen Consort of a small country away from her family and all the comforts she knew unlike Mary who would marry a wealthier and handsomer Prince.

Mary pitied her but she put her pity aside to enjoy the feast. She was dressed in her best, gold and white to mirror the new Queen and her slippers were adorned with pearls and diamonds just like the gemstones on Katherine's hair. If anyone did not know them better, they would confuse the young Princess and Queen as sisters.  
She moved her seat closer to Harry who was also enjoying the celebrations and seemed to get away from their other eldest sibling as well.

Arthur eyed his father coldly. He was too entranced by his Spanish wife to notice; that was how he was these days. His eye never wandered as he used to. The serious and callous man that was the Tudor King had been replaced by the enthusiast and merry man that sat in his stead today.

Arthur envied them. He wished he could enjoy their same mirth but Catherine was boring and barren as a brick. Four months into their marriage and nothing and worst of all she spend all the time talking about theology and prayer. You would think he married a nun! But that was not the worst of all. Oh no. She started to question everything from English to church proceedings and not far behind her was his father's darling sweetheart -Katherine.  
She enjoyed every opportunity to mock him and flirt with him, taking his wife to her chambers and talking endlessly about books, romances, poetry, religion, everything that she knew would get his attention.

Saucy little minx, she was leading him on and she didn't even know it. That smile she possessed, she had no idea what it did to men, what it did to _him._


	5. Chapter 5

_"They have a choice. They can live in my new world or die in the old one" ~Daenerys Targaryen_

Arthur looked down at his hands. He wanted to squeeze them and use them to wring them around his wife's neck. She bickered him constantly with talks of religion and charity, she knew nothing but her books and her devotion and it angered Arthur because deep down he would never match that devotion. Deep down he knew he was rotten and spoiled to the core and it was all because of _her._

* * *

Katherine knelt before the cross, crossing herself after she finished. She told her ladies to leave except for a select few. She invited her minstrels to sing and perform for them. Catherine was amongst the spectators enjoying the good show the Queen Consort put up for them. There were all kinds of delicacies in her room, hot fresh baked bread, berries, grapes, apples, dates, and melted cheese.

Catherine felt compelled to dip the bread in hot cheese but then she remembered on the merit of abstinence and living off her faith alone.

Katherine was equally spiritual, Catherine knew. Nobody visited shrines, prayed more, and advocated more for the poor than she did. The Queen believed that it was her mission to return these wretched souls to God and introduce them to the only and true Mother Church. There were many who would take advantage of their position and promote their own beliefs and impose their heathen ideas on then, such as the Woodvilles did -or tried to before the Usurper did away with them. But Katherine was not like that, Catherine observed. She truly believed that it was her mission to save souls from purgatory.  
There were those however, that also believed in salvation, albeit, their approach was more radical. The Lollards, heretics since the time of third Edward, believed that souls could reach heaven without the need for indulgences or special favors from the Church. All that was needed was a special commitment to Christ, uphold His laws and you get into heaven. Easy. No questions asked.

To many of the peasantry, the idea appealed to them, yet their number was decreasing at overwhelming odds since their Queen had been crowned and started to pull more number of people to her pilgrimages. She would travel barefoot to the shrines of the Holy Virgin, her favorite idol, she said, and do an act of humility the likes of which no one had ever seen in a Queen of England before.

She was smart. Smart _and_ devoted. Catherine could learn a lot from her. She remained concentrated on her needlework. As much as she enjoyed playing the lute and dancing with Katherine and her ladies, her knitting came first. She was an expert on it and she made many things for the royal family, including her husband Arthur who barely, if ever, glanced at them.

Katherine got her to drop her needlework. She gave the woman a miniature portrait of them and their husbands, standing proudly at the left side by side as they did. "Thank you." Catherine said and took the woman's hand. She led her to the center of the room where they began dancing a special Spanish dance the Queen had learned from childhood. It only required women and the music could go on as much as they liked, so they didn't have to worry about getting bored.

The two royal women sat down again after they grew exhausted. Their other ladies continued dancing regardless of them. "How are you finding pregnant life?" Katherine suddenly asked her.

It took Catherine by surprise. "H-how do you know?"

Katherine chuckled and took Catherine's hand. "My dear, a woman who has been pregnant two times knows these things and I started to notice when your breasts grew larger and you started wearing on your old German gowns."

Catherine flushed embarrassed.

Katherine read her expression and reassured her. "Your secret is safe with me, I won't tell Arthur but Catherine, he has to know sooner or later. This is your firstborn child after all, something that pleases every parent."

"Yes, I know." Catherine said, the birth of her husband came to mind. "But I am scared." She confessed. "What if something goes wrong? It's very common for us ... for women, I mean, to die in childbirth-"

"Shh dear, don't say that. You will have the best trained midwives and an army of doctors to be there for you should you need it."

"But men aren't allowed in the birthing chamber. They will be outside while the women will be my own company. How will I bear it?"  
She didn't want to be stuck in a room full of women. They were filled with superstition and she much preferred the company of learned men, even priests, who would bring her spiritual comfort.

"You will because Arthur and your family are counting on you, I am also counting on you." She said, squeezing her hand gently. "This will be my first step-grandchild and I am eager to hold him in my arms before the King takes him and makes all of us bow before him like he did with Arthur." Both women laughed picturing the scene. "Have you thought of names?"

"No, not yet. I wanted to be sure. The midwife said that I could not be until the quickening but it's been two months since my courses and I am sure now. I think I can even feel movement, here, look." She guided her mother in law's hand to her belly. "Do you feel it?"

Katherine felt nothing but not wanting to disappoint the young girl, she nodded.  
"It must be a boy if he kicks this hard. You must be proud."

"I am, I had not thought about the sex of my baby, I could only think how I was going to tell Arthur and making sure I was pregnant and now that I am ... I cannot help it. I have another Prince of England in my belly." She said, her expression one of pure joy. After a while, she added, "I think I will call him Arthur after his father, Arthur Henry. What do you think?"

"I think it's an excellent choice, one that will please both your husband and the King."

"I know. I must write to my family in Germany, they will be so happy. They didn't think much of me when I was sent here. They all heard how young the Prince was and they were very reluctant to send me here. When they hear that I am ... that me and Arthur are ... with child ..." She squealed and jumped from her seat with joy. "They will be so proud of me. No one thought I could make it, but I showed them." She fixed her eyes on Katherine again and grabbing her hands, she pulled her up. "You and I must plan everything for the Christening. After yours of course. You will be chosen as my godmother, no, better yet, you will be my only godmother. I want no one there to take precedence but you."

Katherine was touched by the woman's proposal. As a show of goodwill, she embraced the Princess of Wales and thanked her for the honor.

After their little celebration Catherine told her husband. He was taken aback by what he heard, but he quickly composed himself and drew his lips upward into a smile. "Since when?" He asked.

"Since two months ago. I suspected when your stepmother was crowned but I didn't want to get carried away and it was her day so I chose to wait until the quickening."

"So are you sure then? My father's physician, maybe he can..." She cut him off.

"No, you needn't trouble with these matters. The midwives have checked on me twice and they've all said the same. I am with child." Her heart leaped with joy when she saw her husband's smile widen. She twined her arms around his neck and kissed his lips. It was bold but the hell with manners. She was happy. She was going to be a mother at last and with God's grace it would be a boy and would teach her family never to doubt her again! "I am with child Arthur. Your child." She repeated. "I discussed the news with Katherine, she and I agree to name him after you."

"Kat- The Queen knows?"

"Yes, I told her of my suspicions and she told me to tell you right away. You are not mad, are you?"

"Mad? How can I be mad? This is joyous news, I am going to be a father."

She was pleased to hear this. "When are we going to tell your father? The whole kingdom must know so they can celebrate with us."

Us. He hated the way she said us. Like they were one. When I am King, Arthur thought, I will teach her to speak to me accordingly.

"I cannot believe this has happened Arthur. Everyone said that it would take me a lifetime, that I had to be careful. My family thinks of sex as a curse rather than a blessing but since I've known you, everyone here has been so kind to me and you have been a far gentler husband than I could have ever asked for or deserve."

He was, Arthur was about to say.

"What shall we name it if it is a girl?" Better yet, she thought. "What if there are twins?"

"We will leave that up to God and if it is a girl I will be just as happy, just as long as she is healthy." He said then kissed her hand.

He made her happy and that was all that mattered. She had no idea that Arthur grew more impatient with her every day. He put up with more than every man would in his position but he told himself, he was king to be and that entailed certain responsibilities as well as burdens.

His grandmother after all, told him how his grandfather Edward IV, had to put up with many of her complaints. It was a small price to be paid for greatness and for desire -his mind added. The image of Katherine sprung to his mind once more.

* * *

Margaret did not want to leave England right after the Queen's churching. But the Queen insisted. She said it would be cruel to deprive Margaret of her great opportunity. Little Spanish harlot. The real reason she wanted Margaret gone was she could continue to entice her father in her web of sex and lies.

Was she the only one left with a brain here?

Everyone could see that the Spanish harlot was not true to her words! She was about chastity and virtue but she was not ashamed to flaunt her so called "love" for her father openly in court or in the streets whenever they traveled with their large entourage.

You would think the way she was shouted at, that the commons were worshiping the Virgin Mary herself.

Well, at least she was doing one thing right here. In Scotland Margaret would be ruler of her own Court and nobody would tell her otherwise.

* * *

Katherine was happy to watch the spoiled Princess leave. If she didn't know better, the girl was lusting after her throne. She saw herself as the oldest and the one who deserved the throne more than anyone else. Already there was a rivalry existing between the older siblings who believed that just on the nature of their birth they deserved everything versus the youngest ones who believed in merit rather than right.

Katherine looked down at her baby. He was sleeping happily in his new bassinet. Henry was like a mother hen making sure nothing was missing for their second son, John Tudor. She played with his little fingers, watching him stare at her in great curiosity. It was as if he was studying her.

When people remarked how much her sons took after their father, she wanted to shout at them. They may take after his appearance but they were Tratasmara in spirit and as all Tratasmaras they forgot and forgave nothing. Her sons, she thought.

She had succeeded where her mother had failed. Her poor brother Juan had been so sickly and Isabella had been so weak to withstand the ails of pregnancy, so had her sister in law (Juan's widow) Margaret. But not her. She had given birth to these children easily without any difficulty. It was as if God Himself had send her a message that her sons were destined for greatness.

Looking down at his beautiful almond-shaped sky blue eyes, she vowed that she would do whatever was necessary, whatever it took, to get them there.


	6. Chapter 6

_"Accept who you are" Ellen DeGeneres_

The baby came one month too early before confinement began. Little Margaret Tudor, she was born weak and her parents knew she was likely to thrive. Yet she did. In her first year of life, her parents threw her a great birthday party to commemorate her existence and remind them that they were blessed to have her with them.

Despite his initial disappointment, Arthur came to love the little Princess who reminded him so much of his sister. If only she was here –he thought. She would see how a rose our little Princess and Queen to be is.

Suddenly an idea came to him, if his daughter became his heir; he would be remembered as the man who fostered England into a new age, who drove her away from darkness and into the light.

His mother and grandmother would be so proud of him. The less likely of all of Jacquetta's brood who was born in Henry Tudor's likeness, turned out to be Melusina's true heir.

He closed his eyes and opened them again and took the child in his arms. "Someday little Maggie you will make all of England very proud."

* * *

Katherine saw Arthur's wife become weaker day by day. 'The curse affects all' her father used to say. The curse of love, the curse of witches. Katherine did not believe in witches, but it always did one good to be cautious.

She lifted Owen and placed him on her lap. "Mama, you thinking."

"Yes, I am." She said kissing the top of his forehead. "What do you suppose I am thinking?"

Owen put two fingers on his chin, thinking very hard then he smiled openly and said "I know you are thinking about the Princess of Wales!"

"Yes I am. How did you know?" She asked pretending to be shocked at his brightness.

He giggled and closed his mouth remembering his mama did not like him to be so blunt. "I am and what do you suppose I want to do about it?"

"Mama do nothing. Mama wait then moves king against knight."

"Yes exactly my love, except it's not king against knight it's Queen against Prince. Remember that always. A Queen." She grabbed the black piece on the chessboard "is always your best piece. To lose it … would be a disaster for your crown and country."

Owen nodded, absorbing every word his mother said.

"Do you understand? Your promise mama you will always remember her words?" But Owen wasn't listening. He had disengaged from his mother's arms and gone back to play chess, taking the role of two players at once.

* * *

Catherine tried to encourage young Edmund to play with Margaret but Henry and Elizabeth's youngest child was deadly afraid by Margaret. Why? She couldn't understand. Her daughter was the sweetest princess in the royal lot. Princess Mary was spoiled and self conceited and Katherine had no daughters, the only Princess left was Margaret and she was Queen of Scotland now. Another self-conceited Princess –she thought.

She looked to Katherine for support but she was busy playing with her dearests.

"Edmund, tell Maggie you like her present."

The prince shook his head. "Edmund tell the Princess you like her present." Said Catherine more insistent but continued to resist.

Catherine gave the long sigh and abandoned Edmund.

"Did he not like it?"

"He did but your uncle is very shy love." Catherine said.

"I thought he would like it. He's always said to grandfather Henry how he wanted a new toy dagger."

"Do not mind him Margaret, when he grows up he will mature."

Margaret shifted her attention from the running boy to her mother. She was only four but she was at an age when her mind was being awakened and took notice what happened around her. Yet, she was not taller than most girls, she was not the tall, imposing figure her father dreamed she would be and she knew it so she tried to make up for it by pleasing others, giving them what they wanted with a smile and kind words. Like her step-grandmother. She was a woman who could hold her ground and had established a power base based on her beauty and words alone, and if she could do the same maybe her father's dream of seeing her in the English throne could become true.

Katherine put down the toy soldier and gave John a book instead. He puffed. "I don't want to read." He pouted, crossing his arms. "I want to play. Edmund gets to play."

"That's because I am older and more responsible." Edmund said coming to sit next to him and Owen.

"No, you get to play because father indulges you too much."

Edmund stuck his tongue out and made a signal with his finger.

"Mama tell him to stop."

"Shh, Edmund don't do that and John you are going to practice your French, no buts."

"But-"

"I said no buts. Go on first paragraph."

"Alright." He grumbled. Edmund gave a triumphant giggle, so did Owen.

Katherine listened attentively to her son's words. His Greek was flawless. She looked behind the seated children to Arthur's wife and her daughter. Margaret was a sweet child. Her youngest son's age almost. If Catherine continued to miscarry she would be their only daughter and Arthur's only heir. If she were her daughter she would teach her to play to blocks of wood to build castles and books instead of dolls but Catherine was an over-indulgent mother who believed as many of the women in this country that daughters were here to give sons and make a husband look good. When she saw her ladies dancing around like idiots, parading the new gowns their daddies paid for, she wished she was back in Spain next to her mother and father as they oversaw matters of government.

One day, she thought. She would be at the heart of that game once more. One day.

She looked down at her two sons, ignoring their older half brother. Maybe she would not have to wait long. Maybe God in his infinite wisdom had answered her prayers. After all, what her mother wanted God gave, and what Katherine wanted also God gave, for they were half divine and they had the power of God in their hands.  
In ten years John would reach the marriageable age and before that, Margaret. It would be as with the King's mother, a marriage to unite two factions except this time it would be the groom carrying the staff of power.

* * *

Owen and Henry raced Arthur. Their brother was becoming a better horse-man (and hunter) much to Henry's chagrin. Harry wanted to be the best of everything, and with their father's health becoming delicate, he took advantage to figure in every pageant he was absent. Their grandmother didn't like it, preferring Arthur as the Crown Heir to be the star but they couldn't help it if the crowds loved Harry better.

Harry was after all the living image of the York dynasty. Cheerful, cultured, athletic, everything his Yorkist grandfather had been and Arthur resented him for that. His younger siblings got the Plantagenet heritage while he inherited his mother's Woodville features but nobody saw that. And why would they when the ignorant still blamed them for what happened.

"Faster Harry!" Owen commanded and Harry held on tighter. Finally they were able to catch on with him but too late. Arthur had gotten to Greenwich first and he was dismounting from his horse.

"No fair. You tricked us. You should've taken the straight road just like we agreed."

"That's Arthur for you little brother" Harry said getting off his horse first then helping Owen.

"I am not little." Harry ruffled his hair in response. "Hey." Harry chuckled at his annoyance.

"Our brother is right, why didn't you take the road we agreed on?"

Arthur didn't answer him right away. He was busy checking no dirt was on his boots or clothes. "I was busy." He said then turned his back and began walking away.

"What's gotten into him?" Harry thought aloud.

"Leave him be Harry." Owen said and took Harry's hand. "Come on, let's go inside and get washed. Father is hosting a great banquet remember?"

"Yes I do." Harry said rushing to their quarters. "You must be very excited to meet your aunt and uncle at last."

"Yes but I have to wonder if what they say of her is true."

"What is true?" Harry asked as they got into separate tubs.

"You know. They say she is mad and that she is a witch."

"Ha-ha. That is madness. She is your mother's sister, your grandmother's heir, if you ask your mother about her, she would tell you no daughter of a good and pious Queen could ever be a witch."

"But good women have been accused before haven't they?"

Harry nodded. That was true. "You got a point there but those were all lies. True witches wouldn't reveal themselves to men."

"How do you know? Have you ever met one?"

"No but I've met many who have been accused." You too, he thought.

Reading his thoughts, Owen said. "You mean our mothers? You don't have to give me that face Harry, I know what people say behind our backs and what has been said of them in the past when they married our father."

"They are just stories Owen."

"What if they are not? People said your mother came from witches, they still say my mother works her way around our father through her sex charms. Not that she minds, she seems to want the attention and fight fire with sweetness. But it does make you wonder."

"People are going to talk badly of people, they've been doing it as long as since I can remember. When I was your age and I heard these rumors I laughed out loud. Your mother is not a witch, my mother most certainly wasn't. Both are the most pious ladies that ever walked this realm and they will be remembered as such." He slapped his back. "Stop worrying and let's go greet your Aunt and her stuck up husband."

They both laughed. Juana was nothing like they imagined, crazy and agitated. She seemed perfectly in control of her emotions like her sister who sat in between her and Owen. "Tell me how is Castile? How are the crops? I remember last time we visited the feels with our lady mother. Remember what she said?"

"Do not run or you will spoil your riding boots?"

"Yes." Katherine exclaimed, laughing hard, not able to help herself. She smiled apologetically at the crowds below.

"I was never a good filial daughter, mother was always chastising me, telling me I should be more like you. She was right, you've grown more beautiful than both our parents combined. If she was here she would be proud of you."

"You are saying that just to please me. I know what they speak of me Catalina." Juana said looking at her husband who sat to the King's left. "They think I am not sound of mind and Philip is partly to blame though the blame is mostly mine."

"Why?"

"I failed mother Catalina. I did many things I wish I didn't do and said ... things." She shook her head. "It doesn't matter now. It's all in the past, I am Queen and ruler of Castile and my husband rules for me." She suppressed a sigh.

Catalina wrapped her hand around her sister's. "You have me and Henry. We will be there for everything you need. You know you can count on us."

Juana looked up and met Katherine's eyes and at once she knew she spoke the truth. "Thank you." She said slowly taking her hand away. "It should be you who should be Queen. You would be much better at it than me."

"No. I don't think I could handle the pressure. I am much more content at being a wife and a mother."

"How luck you are then." Juana said smiling back at her sister, being completely earnest with her.

Inside however, Katherine pondered on Juana's words. If she were Queen, it would be her ruling a court and country all of her own and not just through the shadows of her husband and son. She would be ruler all in name. But alas! Nature had chosen for Katherine the weaker sex and it was something that she had to live by. But she did not complain. If God hadn't made her a woman He would've made her a man, proud and arrogant just like her sister's husband whose only strength and claim to her mother's throne derived from his wife.

Just like Henry, just like all men. They ruled through their wives without ever acknowledging or thanking them for it. A man's true strength was in his sword, her father said, but a woman's was in her brain.


End file.
